Fields of gold

A little competition

Elanor sighed as she lost, for the fifth time in a row, her spider solitaire game on the tablet. To say her mind wasn't in it would be an understatement, but what could she do ?

Cards were usually an excellent deterrent of her overactive mind when control frayed, but the very subject of her distraction kept on calling her attention. This evening, Laurë had kicked her out of the kitchen, stating that he would be in charge of dinner while she relaxed. Too bad she didn't own a bathtub, a bubbly, scented soak would have been ideal.

But there she was, trying to empty her mind and failing spectacularly. The fact that a gorgeous alien kept popping into her thoughts made her crazy. They almost lived like husband and wife; when did that happen ? When had her defences crumbled and accepted him as a part of the household ?

Elanor valued her privacy dearly, guests usually becoming a distasteful intrusion in less than a day. Usually. Laurë's presence should irk her, but he fit in the cracks of her life so easily that it boggled her mind. There was no disturbance caused by his presence, no lack of freedom, no demands, just companionship. And now, Elanor wondered how she would feel when he finally found his way home.

The very object of her musings appeared in front of her, crouched at eye level. There was no wince, no shuffling to indicate discomfort at the straining position. Elanor found herself relieved and puzzled at once, for if he regained his full mobility, he very might want to leave.

"How about true game ? You said you teach that one."

Elanor's eyes tore themselves from the brilliance of his eyes, following the extended hand to the game of Blokus – a present from Myriam to ground her in reality. The colourful blocks seemed to have caught his attention, and she'd promised to show him two days prior.

"Why not ?" she concluded. "Unless you need help in the kitchen."

"Là (no). It cooks alone half an hour."

Elanor nodded, perusing the apron in hopes of knowing what he had prepared. Unfortunately, the cotton betrayed nothing of his activities, still immaculately clean. How he managed to be so graceful was a mystery to her, and he even started to joke on her 'clumsy human' nature. The title always left an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Human.

What is he, then ?

For all purposes, Laurëfindelë almost looked human. Almost. His charm and handsomeness bordered on beautiful, and he could pass for a model after a make-up session. Everything about him was remarkable; from the sway of his long, fair hair to the almond shape of his blue eyes. There wasn't a line out of place in his face, masculine angles and sharp features, smoothed over by flawless skin.

But there were manners, postures and, of course, this inner light that kept growing every day that made him ethereal like an angel. She'd never seen a human move with such grace, neither been submitted to looks that would go through every single layer of self-preservation walls she'd erected. His very presence sometimes caused her brain wires to cross.

"Elanor ?" he asked, his melodious voice caressing her name sinfully. And, if only to add fuel to the fire, he spoke in Quenya: "Are you well ?"

"Sure," she shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. She grabbed the game and pulled it out of its box on the coffee table, quelling those erratic thoughts. The low furniture had become their quartier general; they sometimes ate, talked and lived on this sofa. Each other's rooms were off limits, but this place was like a campfire. She, that always shunned the idea of a flatmate, refused to dwell on the domesticity of that particular situation.

Elanor fished out the colour blocks and, while Laurëfindelë picked them and studied the plastic items curiously, explained how they were meant to populate the grid from corner to corner.

Thus ensued a fierce game of Blokus. At first, Laurë artfully made a picture with his pieces until the board was crowded enough for the difficulty to rise. Then, he studied her moves, and learnt. By the third game, he had integrated all her strategies, and started blocking her at every turn. The friendly banter intensified, and Elanor laughed at this little streak of competitiveness.

Laurëfindelë was such a delight to be around, his naïve enthusiasm bringing fresh air into her well-ordered existence. Never, in her life, Elanor would have thought to enjoy companionship from another. Especially a male. And this specific one threatened to have her renounce her the so-called asexuality category she'd been dumped into. There was something in Laurëfindelë that called at her instincts. Beneath the connection of two souls, something animalistic lurked and it frightened her.

Suddenly, she wanted to touch him, to feel that warm skin under her fingers and feast in the bliss of his solid embrace. Elanor mentally slapped herself, irked to be so easily lured by a pretty face. She, that has sneered as the flirtatious nurses, felt disgusted with herself for even thinking of the possibility...

He deserved better than a drooling excuse of a woman, especially since he probably swung the other way. Even if Laurë hid it well, his melancholy told her he was still healing from losing his other half; Echtelion's death had scared him as efficiently as that fire monster. Furthermore, he was just a guest in her home. She owed him respect, especially if he found a way home.

What it he never does ?

Elanor crushed the thought mercilessly; Laurë was not hers. He was way too beautiful, too intelligent, too otherworldy to ever be hers. That he would condescend to be her friend her was a gift she would cherish for life. Period.

Since when am I considering a relationship with someone ?

The very notion puzzled her, and Elanor froze on the spot. Ocean blue eyes caught her attention then, trapping her in the bottomless well of wisdom that swirled within their depths, reminding her how thoroughly different he was. Out of her league entirely. Wise beyond his age.

Blond eyebrows frowned; Elanor sighed, distressed to be the origin of his uneasiness. Before he could ask, though, Féline burst into the room in a fit of frenzy that only a cat could muster.

Laurëfindelë sprang to his feet, alert and ready. The furry animal bolted around the wall behind his head and rushed out, only to be grabbed mid-flight by the scruff of his neck. Elanor's eyes widened, impressed by this burst of inhuman speed.

Feline gave an indignant hiss, but Laurëfindelë approached his face from hers, frightfully determined. "Be careful !", Elanor gasped, fearful that Feline might scratch his face. He did not need other wounds to add to his healing scars. The tall man ignored her and frowned to the cat.

"Man-ië, Féline ?"

The cat stopped writhing at once, submitting to Laurë's intensity with a sheepish meow. Puzzled, Elanor stood. "A moment of folly, it happens sometimes."

"Really ?"

The young woman shrugged, noticing how tense Laurë was. The warrior had come forth, all reflexes and claws out. After his revelation about Melko's attack on Gondolin, she could easily understand why Feline's mad dash triggered his sense of danger.

The young woman opened her arms to retrieve the wayward feline, but the cat scurried away at once, hiding in one of her drawers.

"I think she's just jealous."

Laurë cocked a sceptical eyebrow, studying the overturned game of Blokus as if it carried answers. Whatever went on in his head was interrupted by the loud beeping of the oven, and they both retreated to the kitchen for a serving of vegetable lasagna that would make a chef green with envy.